It's The Little Things
This morning, as I was making a shake for breakfast, Jabin crawled up into his usual chair and turned around, watching me from the dining room, hungry anticipation all over his face.
I whizzed and spun the first shake in the Bullet, then set it in front of him (or should I say "behind him?") on the table.
"You gotta pray for your shake, okay?"
Immediately, he folded his pudgy, almost-three-year-old fingers and said, "Dear God, Thank you for my shake. Amen!"
This prayer struck me. I love the simple innocence. Truly grateful, completely sincere, without any pretentious-sounding language to impress the listener--whether it be God or Mom.
It reminds me of the verse, "Unless you come before me as a little child..."
Let me be real. Let me be simple. And let me be grateful.
I whizzed and spun the first shake in the Bullet, then set it in front of him (or should I say "behind him?") on the table.
"You gotta pray for your shake, okay?"
Immediately, he folded his pudgy, almost-three-year-old fingers and said, "Dear God, Thank you for my shake. Amen!"
This prayer struck me. I love the simple innocence. Truly grateful, completely sincere, without any pretentious-sounding language to impress the listener--whether it be God or Mom.
It reminds me of the verse, "Unless you come before me as a little child..."
Let me be real. Let me be simple. And let me be grateful.